


let's not forget where our hearts live

by Nyxierose



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Ficlet Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2019-11-17 14:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18100346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: Assorted prompt fills and shorter ficlets, generally unconnected and variable ratings.





	1. decent start

**Author's Note:**

> And here we go with a new ship. All of these ficlets originated on my tumblr [@electricbluebutterflies](http://electricbluebutterflies.tumblr.com) and none are directly connected (unless I specifically say otherwise) but I feel like I'm gonna have a consistent sorta-AU continuity for these babes, so... stay tuned.
> 
> Collection title from "Gold & Silver" by Dia Frampton.

If someone had asked some younger version of Diego how he expected to spend his twenty-eighth birthday, almost getting shot and then picking a fight with his sorta ex girlfriend would not have sounded like a good option. But that’s the night he’s having, and he’s lucky it’s not even more of a mess but this is not at all what he expected when he suited up two hours ago and-

“Are you listening to a damn word I’m saying?”

No, no he is not. In part because his shoulder hurts like hell - and for the record, it was a _very_  near miss - and in part because a human being should not look this pretty in bright blue light. Eudora is absolutely beautiful all of the time, but there’s just something about her hands on her hips and that slightly homicidal sparkle in her eyes and-

“No ma’am,” he counters, because his judgment is just that impeccable tonight.

“This is the third time this month you’ve made my job unnecessarily complicated, Diego. And the second time you almost got hurt in the crossfire. If this is some half-assed attempt at getting my attention, I swear to God…”

“I don’t just get in _your_  way.”

She sighs, more dramatic than she usually is during these little fights they’re having all too frequently. “Yeah. I am well aware. You’re a permanent migraine for everyone else too, and if anyone else finds out I know you, I’m up a tree.”

“You could just say you miss me.”

“I do not have _time_  to miss you. I’m pretty sure I see you more now that you’ve decided you’re freaking Batman than I did when we were dating.”

She… is not wrong, now that he thinks about it, but he doesn’t feel like giving up so easily. “I am trying to help.”

“What you’re _doing_  is making sure I don’t sleep.”

He’s in a bit of a mood - he feels like he’s bleeding somewhere, there might’ve been a bad landing, he doesn’t remember all the important details of the last thirty minutes - and half tempted to point out he could keep her awake in other ways if she was so inclined, but what little self-preservation instincts he has decide to kick in and nope, he’s not feeling a close encounter with her taser or whatever.

“If your people would do their damn jobs…” he mutters. So, maybe not _all_  his self-preservation instincts are in gear.

“I do not have the emotional energy to deal with this. It’s like yelling at my cat, except slightly easier to look at.”

As opposed to the last time they got in a fight on the edge of a crime scene, aka last weekend, at least she’s kinda admitting she likes him. This feels like a win, and Diego is still in the good part of an adrenaline high, so he decides to risk his life once more - third time tonight, if he’s keeping track - and kiss her. Just an innocent few-second liplock because he _can_ , because it’s been six months and he’s pretty sure that’s fine by her and-

“I am convinced you were put on this planet to make my life miserable,” she murmurs as they separate, but she’s smiling so he’s pretty sure he did okay.

“Not the worst explanation I’ve ever heard for my existence.”

“Get gone, Diego. You’ve done enough damage for one night.”

“Understood. Same time next week?”

“At least wait until your pulled muscle heals up before you do anything else stupid…”

He’s sure she has more commentary he doesn’t hear as he runs off, but he doesn’t care. Relatively functional interaction with probable love of his life, check. Twenty-eight is off to a decent start.


	2. wait up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - "when's the last time you slept?"

Eudora waits up. She can’t help it. Over the past few years, she’s worked through a bunch of different emotions regarding her partner’s nocturnal activities - and wow does that sound creepy when she tries to make it tactful and vague - and lately she’s been stuck on worry.

She’s worried about him since the moment they met, honestly, but it’s a little different with a shared apartment and a ring on her finger. More at stake if - or when - something goes terribly wrong.

So on those rare nights she’s off work, she’s still up late, listening to the police scanner in the comfort of her living room in hopes that nobody finds a body that gets described way too much like her fiancé. When she’s off, that’s all she can do.

It’s about two in the morning, and she’s still technically awake and clutching yet another cup of tea and god will this night ever end, when she hears the key in the lock. There have been a few interesting adjustments over the course of her relationship; Diego’s aversion to accessing spaces in a normal sensible way is something they’ve worked through, but she’s still pleasantly surprised when he remembers. Or maybe she’s just super tired, but she can’t fall asleep on her own anymore and-

“You look like hell,” he says with way more affection than should ever be in those four words. “When was the last time you slept?”

Eudora turns and glares at him. This should not be a question or a discussion, far as she’s concerned. They are domesticated now, and he _knows_ her quirks, and they have this convo on about a monthly basis, and yet…

There’s so much worry in his face, and she is reminded that she is not the only one with something to lose.

“Wanted to wait up for you,” she says, because it’s true and the less she talks the better.

“You don’t have to do that, Dora.”

“I don’t _have_ to do anything, but… if something happens to you, I wanna know.”

He crosses the space and turns the radio off before he sits down next to her. “I’m fine, babe. Not even a scratch on me tonight.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” she mutters. “Which is not me _asking_ to see things right this second.”

“Yeah, you need to sleep.”

“Only if you’re joining me. I don’t trust you not to go right out that window and-”

“Sharp objects are in the shoebox. I’m in for the night. Promise.”

It’s late enough that she believes him enough to follow him down the hallway to their bedroom, throwing herself on the bed and watching with half-open eyes as he changes clothes. Yeah, nothing that looks like a new serious cut or similar wound - she can’t make out bruises in this light, but blood glows weird sometimes and that’s what worries her most so she supposes he really is okay. She should learn to trust him more, but she knows him too well and-

“You can close your eyes. Nothing got me. It’s okay.”

“Am I going to have to defend your antics at work tomorrow?”

“Good question. Probably not?”

She closes her eyes as he lies down beside her. “At least that’s not a definite yes.”

“Love you too…”

He’d better, she thinks as she drifts off. There’s only so much explaining she’s actually capable of.


	3. fireproof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - fire/flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know this chapter title is WILDLY original, but ah well.

Over the years, there have been many moments Eudora Patch has questioned her sorta-boyfriend's sanity (and by extension her own, because this would be a whole different issue if she didn't keep crashing into him). She has a moment along those lines at least once every time they interact, if not several times, and knowing what she's dealing with has not lessened the compulsion to yell at him every time he goes and does something that's going to lead to several hours of paperwork for her, and-

Tonight, she feels like her desire to bash her head against a wall a few times is completely justifiable. _Tonight_ , approximately a minute and a half ago, she just watched the probable love of her life charge into a burning building. Because, y'know, this situation wasn't already enough of a clusterfuck without having to explain someone else's bizarre behavior to the fire department.

Fuck. Her.

Again, context is everything. If anyone else was this level of stupid, she'd probably let them suffer the consequences in the unlikely event they survived that long, but Diego is… for someone with his questionable impulse control and rosebush of a moral code, unusually resilient. Eudora hasn't pinned down how that works yet, and she suspects it involves questions she won't ask about things he won't talk about, but there's something about him that makes all the chaos work out.

She will still yell at him. She will make sure other people see it happen and she will make it good. But she's not actually worried about anything else happening to him.

And sure enough, another minute later and five seconds after she flips off someone from the fire department because she'll handle the interdepartmental explaining once she figures out _what_ she's explaining, an idiot in black leather emerges from the flames. Said black leather has definitely seen better days, but said idiot looks fine. Not like, y'know, one would expect someone to look like after spending three minutes inside a sneak peak at hell. Not, y'know, attempting to cough up a lung.

Yeah. Something inhuman about him and they're not having that conversation. They _are_ , however, having a nice little talk about creative suicide attempts or whatever the hell he thought he was doing.

"There's n-no one in there," he says as she approaches, self-preservation instincts existent enough to try to ward off what he knows is coming. His voice is also fine - justifiably scared, but not like someone who's been breathing deep smoke for a couple minutes. Not like…

"What the hell were you thinking," she sighs, hands on her hips and giving him That Look, the one she's practiced hundreds of times at this point because it's not at all subtle and it works. "They have scanners. They _knew_ no one was in there. You didn't have to… shit, you could've died from inhaling too much smoke, you could've-"

"N-not a risk. I c-can hold my breath a long time."

Yep. Definitely inhuman. But if it keeps him alive, she's not complaining.

"You still can't do shit like that, Diego. You're not fireproof… at least I don't think you are…"

"I was careful."

"Yeah, well… I get to spend the next two days, if I'm lucky, explaining this to people who usually _aren't_ on my ass. Try to remember that next time you do something that's gonna turn into my problem."

"I'm not trying to make things difficult for you."

"I know. But still. Be more careful. Please."

And with that, she decides to walk away before she says anything she shouldn't.

Yeah, she's still questioning his sanity. She's starting to accept that particular part of the headache isn't going anywhere no matter what she does. She still wouldn't trade this for anything.


	4. slow song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - dancing.

There are many words to describe Eudora Patch. Graceful is, as a general rule, not among them.

Coordinated enough for her chosen profession, yes. Able to run a mile in kitten heels (don’t ask), yes but she’d rather not do it again. But as with most other elements of her life, her abilities of movement have a utilitarian bent. She was politely asked not to come back after her second ballet class at age seven, and twenty-five years later she still hasn’t let it go.

But her eyes are good enough, and she can live vicariously through her easily-amused sorta-ex-boyfriend.

She’s taken to hanging out and watching while he cleans the boxing gym. She’s been dropping by there more often anyways, usually taking a straight route to her partner’s basement apartment. Since the accident, they’ve been... she’s not sure what’s going on, she’s never been sure, but Diego is more appealing on a human level than before. She needs comfort, and he has space in his life to give it.

In two weeks, she’ll find out if she’s cleared to go back in the field. Until then, she spends her days behind a desk and her midnights finding solace with a beautiful man.

She knows her timing, intentionally comes ‘round when she knows he’s supposed to be working. He leaves the back door unlocked for her, now that this has become a routine, but otherwise ignores her until his tasks are done. Depending on what perch she chooses, he may ask her to move, but otherwise...

He’s got music on tonight, one of those radio stations that claims to play a variety of different things, and he likes the song that just came on.

Diego in a comfortable headspace is a sight to behold.  He moves well, finding ways to work little dance moves into the process of scrubbing the floor. This here is the last thing he needs to do tonight. Once everything’s been bleached down to all hell, he’ll make sure everything’s put away properly and retreat to his apartment and the woman on the sidelines. But until then...

She’s got eyes. He is nice to look at, she thinks is a tactful way of putting it. She can’t look away.

He gets a decent part of the floor done before the radio plays something else, something a little softer. Eudora is pretty sure she cried to this song at her little sister’s wedding lasty year, come to think of it, and-

She blinks, and her partner is in front of her, offering his hand.

"I shouldn’t distract you,” she murmurs.

"Not distracting if I’m asking,” he counters. “I’m on schedule. I can take a few minutes and twirl you around.”

"You sure that’s a good idea?”

He smiles, one of those playful smiles that get her in trouble. “Does it matter? You can say no if you actually want, but... this would be a good three minutes, if you...”

She can’t resist him. She’s not sure why she ever tries.

Eudora Patch is not graceful. She is, however, able to keep up. Eyes closed, trusting the hand on the small of her back to guide her and keep her safe.

She hasn’t let anyone into her heart in a long while. Maybe it’s just as wel she never told this one to get gone.

“Could I take you out sometime?” he asks as the song ends. “Do that again but around people, maybe?”

“You don’t need to impress me,” she breathes, leaning in and kissing his cheek because she can. “And I don’t think you could handle me in a dress and heels.”

“Now there’s a mental image I won’t be able to forget...”

“Good, because you’re never seeing it in real life.” She rests a little more of her weight against him, trying to make it clear that he isn’t the problem. “I’m not a girl you take out dancing, Diego. But here, with you? Yeah. I’d do that again.”

He looks pleased enough as they break apart, as he goes back to his mop and she to tonight’s perch on top of a dead radiator. She likes that look on him. It feels like hope.

“Give me ten minutes,” he decides. “Almost done here. Then let’s hope for another slow song...”


End file.
